In the Gleam of Sunglasses
by Wends
Summary: A typical morning in the life of Rude. rated for absolutely nothing. challenge fic, written while drunk


Disclaimer: I in no way own Final Fantasy VII. Don't sue; I'm simply an E6 in the USN, therefore I have no money. Ha.

A/N: Inspiration for this fic comes once more from my friend Ava. While discussing the utter suckage of FF7:DoC, she began on a random tangent about fanfiction she'd stumbled across and how she'd rather see Cid coupled with Yuffie instead of Vincent. This immediately sent me into convulsions. Her next decision was 'no, no, Reno.' This made me snigger uncontrollably and actually consider the apocalyptic repercussions. Then she laughingly said, "I wonder what Rude would be doing in his time free of Reno." Bam, instant plot-bunny. And of course, it had to be a comedic plot-bunny, as the other fics I'm working on are where my seriousness has gone to spawn. So read on, brave one. Or not. There's always a back-button on the top of your browser window.

_-BEGIN FIC-_

The alarm clock was silenced with a firm slap of a heavy, darkly skinned hand.

As the faithful plastic device groaned pitifully while its time-weakened spring attempted to ease the gray snooze button back into its proper position, the very hand that had so roughly pummeled the clock lifted it from its place on the nightstand. Deft fingers quickly slid the power switch to 'off' before returning it to where it belonged.

A low rumbling groan eased thickly from the man's throat as he slowly sat upright and stretched, muscles rippling and bones popping as he reached out to his sides. Before dark eyes opened to the world, his fingers quickly groped for the pair of sunglasses that always were nearby. Only seconds passed before he located them upon his stylishly designed black and chrome nightstand and had them in their proper position on his face.

Rising from his bed, he padded to his dresser and grabbed a pair of boxer briefs. Pulling them over his bare legs, he strode from his room once he determined he was sufficiently dressed and wandered with purpose to his in-home gym.

One hour, five hundred sit-ups, one hundred repetitious bench-presses with two hundred pounds on his bar, several hundred curls and a series of quick stretches later, the tall, imposingly muscled man walked to his kitchen and quickly whipped up a breakfast of blended bananas, kiwi and four raw eggs.

He always ran his showers cold in the mornings, letting icy water snake down his bare flesh and over his taunt skin. Heavy hands rubbed his Axe body-wash over his bald head, shining it to a glorious gleam.

After he'd finished buffing his body dry with his favorite white terry-cloth towel and shaving, he changed into his work clothes and switched to his official working sunglasses, tucking his house pair into his breast pocket for use as a spare.

Tightening his black tie after he'd buttoned up the stylish black suit's jacket, he patted his slacks straight and kicked his shoes more firmly onto his feet.

Dressed and prepared, he glanced at the door, then at his silvery watch that was strapped around his thick wrist.

His partner wouldn't be arriving for another hour.

He had enough time to dote on his princess for awhile.

"Oh princess," he softly called as he opened the door to the swank apartment's spare bedroom.

As the lithe little lady stirred on her pillowy bed, the huge man in his well-cut suit slid his hands under her body and lifted her into his arms. "Come now. We've some time to ourselves before Reno arrives."

She yawned, her gesture delicate and sweet as she looked at him with dark, sleep-hazed eyes. A smile graced the thickly-built man's strong face.

He stopped in his tracks as he emerged into his living room.

His front door just swung open.

"Yo! Morning, Rude!" the tattooed red-head said with a bright grin, lifting a hand and shaking it wildly.

"Reno."

"So, ready to hit the road and get to… oh, for crying out loud, partner. When are you gonna get a real dog?"

"What are you saying about Princess?" Rude muttered, a scowl turning his lips.

"Buddy, that's the kind of dog little old ladies own. Or people like that Cloud Strife squirt. Or Mukki, that body-builder down in Wall Market. And you know what men like that are like."

The threatening angered yipping of Princess the Bichon Frise rang through the apartment, even as Reno cringed away from the glare cast at him in the gleam of sunglasses.

_-end-_

Reviews are, as always, appreciated! Thanks for sticking with this 'till it's end.


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